Жюль Верн
Round the World in Eighty Days

CHAPTER XVIII

In which Phileas Fogg, Passe-partout, and Fix severally go each about his own business.

During the latter part of the voyage the weather was very bad; the wind was blowing freshly – almost a gale – right in the teeth of the Rangoon, which rolled considerably, and disturbed the passengers very much.

In fact, on the 3rd and 4th of November there was quite a tempest, and the Rangoon was obliged to proceed slowly. All the sails were furled, and the captain was of opinion that they would be twenty hours late at Hong Kong, or perhaps more, if the storm lasted.

Phileas Fogg gazed at the turbulent sea as coolly as ever; he betrayed no impatience, even though twenty hours' delay would upset his calculations, by causing him to lose the Yokohama steamer. It seemed almost as if the storm were part of his programme, and Mrs. Aouda, who sympathised with him, was surprised to find him quite unmoved.

But Fix did not look upon these things with unconcern; he was very glad that the storm had happened, and would have been delighted if the Rangoon had been obliged to scud before the tempest. All these delays were in his favour, because they tended towards detaining Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong; he did not mind the sea-sickness he suffered, and while his body was tortured, his spirit was exultant.

But Passe-partout was very much annoyed by this bad weather. All had gone well till now. Everything had appeared to favour his master, hitherto. Steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and steam had united to assist him. Was it possible that the hour of misfortune had struck? Passe-partout felt as if the wager of twenty thousand pounds was to come out of his own purse. The storm exasperated him, the wind made him furious, and he would liked to have whipped this disobedient sea. Poor fellow! Fix all the time carefully concealed his personal satisfaction, for had Passe-partout perceived it, Fix would have had a bad time.

Passe-partout remained on deck as long as the storm lasted, for it was quite impossible for him to go down below. He assisted the crew in every way in his power, and astonished the sailors by his activity. He questioned the captain, the officers, and the men hundreds of times as to their progress, and got laughed at for his pains. He wanted to know how long the tempest would last, and was referred to the barometer, which had evidently not made up its mind to rise; even when Passe-partout shook it, it would not change its mind.

At last the storm subsided, and the wind veered round to the south, which was in their favour. Passe-partout regained his serenity as the weather improved. Sails were once more set on the Rangoon and she resumed her route at great speed, but she could not make up for lost time. It could not be helped, however, and land was not signalled till five o'clock on the morning of the 6th of November. The itinerary of Phileas Fogg showed that they ought to have arrived the day before, so they were twenty-four hours behindhand, and the Yokohama steamer would be missed.

At six o'clock the pilot came on board. Passe-partout longed to ask the man if the Yokohama steamer had sailed, but he preferred to nurse his hopes till the last moment. He had confided his troubles to Fix, who, sly fellow as he was, pretended to sympathise with him, and told him he would be in time if his master took the next steamer, a remark which put Passe-partout into a violent rage.

But if he did not like to ask the pilot, Mr. Fogg, having consulted his Bradshaw, did not hesitate to inquire when the steamer left for Yokohama.

"To-morrow, at the morning's flood-tide," replied the pilot.

"Ah, indeed," said Mr. Fogg, without manifesting any emotion.

Passe-partout could have embraced the pilot for this information, while Fix would gladly have twisted his neck.

"What is the name of the steamer?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"The Carnatic," replied the pilot.

"Ought she not to have sailed yesterday?"

"Yes; but one of her boilers required repairing, so she will not start till to-morrow."

"Thank you," replied Mr. Fogg, as he descended quietly to the cabin.

Passe-partout wrung the pilot's hand, exclaiming, "Well, you are a good fellow."

Probably to this day the pilot has not the slightest idea of what Passe-partout was driving at. He merely whistled, and went back to his station on the bridge to guide the steamer through a flotilla of junks, tankas, and fishing-boats, and a crowd of other vessels which encumbered the waters of Hong Kong.

At one o'clock the steamer was alongside the quay, and the passengers went ashore.

On this occasion it must be confessed that fortune had singularly favoured Phileas Fogg. But for the necessary repairs to her boilers, the Carnatic would have sailed on the 5th, and the travellers bound for Japan would have been obliged to wait for eight days for the next steamer. Mr. Fogg, it is true, was twenty-four hours behindhand, but this would not seriously affect his journey.

In fact, the steamer which plied from Yokohama to San Francisco was connected with the Hong Kong boat, and would not start till the arrival of the latter; so, if he were twenty-four hours late at Yokohama, he would make it up in crossing the Pacific. At present, however, Phileas Fogg found himself twenty-four hours late during the thirty-five days since he quitted London.

The Carnatic would sail the next morning at five o'clock, so Mr. Fogg had still sixteen hours to devote to Mrs. Aouda. He landed with the young lady upon his arm, and conducted her to the Club-house Hotel, where apartments were engaged for her accommodation. Mr. Fogg then went in search of her relatives, telling Passe-partout to remain until his return, so that the young lady might not feel herself quite alone.

Mr. Fogg made his way to the exchange, for he rightly conjectured that such a rich man as Jejeeb would be most likely heard of in that direction.

The broker to whom Mr. Fogg addressed himself knew the man for whom he was inquiring, but he had left China two years before, and gone to live in Holland, he thought; for he had principally traded with Dutch merchants.

Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, and informed Mrs. Aouda that her cousin had left Hong Kong, and had gone to live in Holland.

Mrs. Aouda made no reply for a moment; she passed her hand across her brow, and appeared lost in thought. At length, in a gentle voice, she said, "What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"

"Your course is simple enough," he replied; "come on to Europe."

"But I cannot intrude upon you."

"You do not intrude in the least. Passe-partout."

"Sir."

"Go to the Carnatic and secure three berths."

Passe-partout was delighted to think that the young lady was going to continue her journey with them, for she had been very kind to him. He accordingly quitted the hotel to execute his master's orders cheerfully.

CHAPTER XIX

Showing how Passe-partout took too great an interest in his Master, and what came of it.

Hong Kong is only an island, which fell into the possession of the English by the Treaty of Nankin, in 1843. In a few years the colonising enterprise of the British made of it an important city and a fine port – Victoria. The island is at the mouth of the Canton river, sixty miles only from Macao, upon the opposite bank. Hong Kong has beaten the other port in the struggle for commercial supremacy, and the greater traffic in Chinese merchandise finds its way to the island. There are docks, hospitals, wharfs, warehouses, a cathedral, a Government house, macadamised roads, &c., which give to Hong Kong as English an aspect as a town in Kent or Surrey, which had by some accident fallen to the antipodes.

Passe-partout, with his hands in his pockets, wandered towards Port Victoria, gazing at the people as they passed, and admiring the palanquins and other conveyances. The city appeared to him like Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore; or like any other town colonised by the English.

At the port situated at the mouth of the Canton river was a regular confusion of ships of all nations, commercial and warlike: junks, sempas, tankas, and even flower-boats, like floating garden-borders. Passe-partout remarked several of the natives, elderly men, clothed in nankeen; and when he went to a barber's to be shaved, he inquired of the man, who spoke pretty good English, who they were, and was informed that these men were all eighty years of age, and were therefore permitted to wear the imperial colour, namely yellow. Passe-partout, without exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.

After being shaved, he went to the quay from which the Carnatic was to start, and there he found Fix walking up and down, in a very disturbed manner.

"Ho, ho!" thought Passe-partout, "this does not look well for the Reform Club;" and with a merry smile he accosted the detective without appearing to have noticed his vexation. Fix had indeed good reasons for feeling annoyed. The warrant had not arrived. No doubt it was on its way, but it was quite impossible it could reach Hong Kong for several days, and as this was the last British territory at which Mr. Fogg would touch, he would escape if he could not be detained somehow.

"Well, Mr. Fix," said Passe-partout, "have you decided to come to America with us?"

"Yes," replied Fix, between his clenched teeth.

"Come along, then," said Passe-partout, laughing loudly; "I knew you could not leave us. Come and engage your berth."

So they went to the office, and took four places. But the clerk informed them that the Carnatic, having had her repairs completed, would sail that evening at eight o'clock, and not next morning, as previously announced.

"Very good," said Passe-partout, "that will suit my master exactly. I will go and tell him."

And now Fix determined to make a bold move. He would tell Passe-partout everything. This was perhaps the only way by which he could keep Phileas Fogg at Hong Kong.

As they quitted the office. Fix offered his companion some refreshment, which Passe-partout accepted. They saw a tavern close by, which they entered, and reached a large well-decorated room, at the end of which was a large camp-bedstead furnished with cushions. On this lay a number of men asleep. About thirty people were seated at small tables drinking beer, porter, brandy, or other liquors; and the majority of drinkers were smoking long pipes of red clay filled with little balls of opium steeped in rose-water. From time to time a smoker would subside under the table, and the waiters would carry him and place him on the bed at the end of the room. There were about twenty of these stupefied smokers altogether.

Fix and Passe-partout perceived that they had entered a smoking-house, patronised by those wretched idiots devoted to one of the most injurious vices of humanity – the smoking of opium, which the English merchants sell every year to the value of one million four hundred thousand pounds. The Chinese Government has vainly endeavoured by stringent laws to remedy the evil, but in vain. The habit has descended from the rich to the poorest classes, and now opium is smoked everywhere at all times by men and women, and those accustomed to it cannot do without it A great smoker can consume eight pipes a day, but he dies in five years.

It was to one of these dens that Fix and Passe-partout had come for refreshment; the latter had no money, but accepted his companion's treat, hoping to return the civility at some future time. Fix ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman paid considerable attention, while Fix, more cautious, watched his companion narrowly. They talked upon many subjects, and particularly respecting Fix's happy determination to sail in the Carnatic; and that put Passe-partout in mind that he ought to go and inform his master respecting the alteration in the time of the steamer's departure, which, as the bottles were empty, he proceeded to do.

"Just one moment," said Fix, detaining him.

"What do you want, Mr. Fix?"

"I want to speak to you seriously."

"Seriously!" exclaimed Passe-partout. "Well, then, let us talk to-morrow, I have no time to-day."

"You had better wait," said Fix; "it concerns your master."

Passe-partout looked closely at his companion, and as the expression of his face was peculiar he sat down again.

"What have you got to say to me?" he said.

Fix placed his hand on his companion's arm, and said, in a low voice,

"You have guessed who I am, eh?"

"Rather," replied Passe-partout.

"Well, then, I am going to tell you everything."

"Yes, now that I know everything, my friend. That's pretty good. However, go on; but first let me tell you that those gentlemen have sent you on a wild-goose chase."

"It is evident that you do not know how large the sum in question is," said Fix.

"Oh yes, but I do," said Passe-partout, "it is twenty thousand pounds."

"Fifty-five thousand," replied Fix, shaking the Frenchman's hand.

"What!" exclaimed Passe-partout, "has Mr. Fogg risked fifty-five thousand pounds? Well, then, all the more reason we should not lose any time," he added, as he rose from his chair.

"Fifty-five thousand pounds," continued Fix, pressing his companion into his seat again, as a flask of brandy was placed before them; "and if I succeed I shall get a percentage of two thousand pounds. If you will assist me I will give you five hundred."

"Assist you!" exclaimed Passe-partout, as he stared wildly at the detective.

"Yes, assist me to keep Mr. Fogg here for some hours longer."

"What is that you say?" said Passe-partout. "Not content with tracking my master, do these gentlemen suspect his good face and wish to put obstacles in his way? I am ashamed of them."

"What are you talking about?" said Fix.

"I say it is a piece of meanness; they might just as well pick Mr. Fogg's pocket."

"That is just the very thing we want to do."

"Then it is a conspiracy, is it?" exclaimed Passe-partout, who was getting excited by the brandy which he unconsciously had swallowed, "a regular conspiracy; and they call themselves gentlemen and friends!"

Fix began to feel very puzzled.

"Friends!" exclaimed Passe-partout, "members of the Reform Club, indeed! Do you know, Mr. Fix, that my master is an honest man, and when he has made a bet he wins it fairly?"

"But can you guess who I am?" said Fix, looking steadily at Passe-partout.

"An agent of the members of the club, whose business it is to hinder my master; and a dirty job it is, too; so although I have found you out long ago, I did not like to betray you to Mr. Fogg."

"Then he knows nothing about it," said Fix quickly.

"Nothing," replied Passe-partout, emptying his glass once more.

The detective passed his hand over his eyes and considered what he was to do. Passe-partout appeared sincere, and this rendered his plan all the more difficult; he evidently was not his master's accomplice. "He will, therefore, help me," said Fix to himself.

There was no time to lose. At any risk Fogg must be stopped at Hong Kong.

"Listen," said Fix, in a sharp tone; "I am not what you think me."

"Bah!" said Passe-partout.

"I am a detective, sent out by the police authorities in London."

"You a detective?"

"Yes, I can prove it. Here is my authority;" and drawing a paper from his pocketbook, he exhibited his instructions to the stupefied Passe-partout, who was unable to utter a word.

"This wager of Mr. Fogg's," continued Fix, "is merely to blindfold you and his colleagues at the Reform Club. He had a motive in securing your unconscious complicity."

"But why?" said Passe-partout.

"For this reason. On the 28th of last September, the sum of fifty-five thousand pounds was stolen from the Bank of England, by a person whose description is fortunately known. That description tallies exactly with Mr. Fogg's appearance."

"Absurd," exclaimed Passe-partout, striking the table with his fist; "my master is the most honest man in the world."

"What do you know about it?" replied Fix. "You only entered his service on the day he left on a mad excursion, without luggage, and carrying an immense sum in bank-notes; and do you dare to maintain that he is an honest man?"

"Yes, yes," repeated the other mechanically.

"Do you wish to be arrested as an accomplice?"

Passe-partout clutched his head with both hands; he was stupefied. He did not dare to look at the detective. Phileas Fogg a robber! This brave, generous man, the rescuer of Aouda, a thief? And yet circumstantial evidence was strong. Passe-partout did not wish to believe it. He could not believe in his master's guilt.

"Well, then, what do you want me to do?" he said, with an effort.

"Look here," said Fix: "I have tracked Mr. Fogg so far, but as yet I have not received a warrant, which I asked to be sent from London. You must help me to keep your master in Hong Kong."

"But I – "

"If so, I will share with you the reward of two thousand pounds promised by the bank."

"Never!" replied Passe-partout, who attempted to rise, but fell back utterly exhausted and stupefied.

"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even if you have told the truth, supposing my master is the thief you are searching for – which I deny – I have been, I am still in his service; he is kind and generous to me, and I will never betray him for all the gold in the world."

"You refuse, then?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, then," said Fix, "forget all I have said. And now let us have a drink."

"Yes, let us have another glass."

Passe-partout felt that the liquor was overcoming him more and more. Fix having made up his mind that he must be separated from his master at any price, determined to finish the matter. On the table were some pipes of opium. Fix handed one of these to Passe-partout, who took a few puffs and fell back perfectly insensible.

"At last," muttered Fix, as Passe-partout collapsed. "Mr. Fogg will not hear of the change of time for the sailing of the Carnatic, and if so, he will have to go without this infernal Frenchman."

Then paying the score, he quitted the tavern.

CHAPTER XX

Showing how Fix and Fogg come face to face.

While these events, which gravely compromised Mr. Fogg's future, were passing, that gentleman and Mrs. Aouda were walking through the town. Since she had accepted Mr. Fogg's escort to England, she wished to make some purchases for the voyage, for a lady could not travel with a hand-bag, as a gentleman might do. So she bought some necessary clothing, etc., and Mr. Fogg overcame all her excuses with his characteristic generosity.

"It is in my own interest," he invariably replied; "a part of my programme."

Having purchased what they required, they returned to dinner at the hotel Mrs. Aouda subsequently retired to rest, leaving Mr. Fogg reading The Times and Illustrated News.

Had Mr. Fogg been a man likely to be astonished at anything, he would have been surprised at the absence of his servant at bedtime; so believing that the steamer did not start for Yokohama till the following morning, he did not trouble himself; but Passe-partout did not appear when Mr. Fogg rang for him next morning, and then he learnt that his servant had not come in during the night. Without a word Mr. Fogg packed his bag, and sent to call Mrs. Aouda and for a palanquin. It was eight o'clock, and the Carnatic was to sail at high-water at half-past nine. Mr. Fogg and his companion got into the palanquin and reached the quay. Then, and not till then, they were informed that the Carnatic had left the previous evening.

Mr. Fogg, who had made up his mind to find the steamer and the servant both awaiting him, was obliged to go without either. He showed no anxiety, merely remarking to Mrs. Aouda, "An incident of travel, madam, nothing more."

At this moment, a man who had been watching them approached. It was Fix. He approached Mr. Fogg, and said:

"Were you not one of the passengers on board the Rangoon yesterday, as well as myself?"

"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly; "but I have not the honour – "

"Excuse me, but I expected to find your servant here."

"Do you know where he is?" asked the young lady quickly.

"What!" exclaimed Fix, in feigned surprise, "is he not with you?"

"No," replied Mrs. Aouda, "he has been absent since yesterday. Perhaps he has sailed in the Carnatic."

"Without you, madam?" said the detective. "You will excuse my question, but you counted on leaving in that steamer?"

"Yes, sir."

"So did I, madam; and I am terribly disappointed. The fact is, the Carnatic was ready for sea twelve hours sooner than was expected, and now we shall have to wait twelve days for another steamer."

Fix was delighted as he said this. In eight days the warrant would arrive. His chances were good. But his disgust may be guessed when he heard Fogg say, in his usual calm tone, "I suppose there are other ships besides the Carnatic in Hong Kong harbour;" and offering his arm to Mrs. Aouda, he turned away towards the docks.

Fix followed him in a dogged sort of manner. He appeared to be attached to Fogg by some invisible cord. But fortune had evidently abandoned Phileas Fogg. For three mortal hours he wandered about the docks, endeavouring to charter a vessel to take him to Yokohama; but all the ships were either loading or unloading, and could not go. The detective's spirits rose again.

But Mr. Fogg was not discouraged. He made up his mind to continue his search, even if he had to cross to Macao. At length he was accosted by a sailor.

"Is your honour looking for a boat?"

"Have you a boat ready to sail?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"I have. A pilot-boat, No. 43; the best in the harbour."

"Can she sail fast?"

"She can make eight or nine knots an hour, or more. Would you like to see her?"

"Yes."

"You will be pleased, I am sure. Is it for a trip that you require her?"

"Somewhat more than that; for a voyage."

"A voyage?"

"I want you to take me to Yokohama."

The sailor folded his arms and looked steadily at Mr. Fogg. "Is your honour serious?" he said.

"Yes. I have lost the Carnatic, and I must be at Yokohama on the 14th, at latest, to catch the steamer for San Francisco."

"I am very sorry," replied the pilot, "but it is impossible."

"I will give you a hundred pounds a day and a bonus of two hundred pounds, if you arrive in time."

"Are you in earnest?" asked the pilot.

"Very much so," replied Mr. Fogg.

The pilot took a turn up and down the wharf; he looked out to sea, and was evidently struggling between his wish to get the money and his fear of venturing so far. Fix, all this time, was on tenter-hooks.

Mr. Fogg turned to Mrs. Aouda, and asked her if she were afraid.

"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," replied the young lady.

Just then the pilot returned, twirling his hat in his hands.

"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.

"Well, your honour," replied the pilot; "I cannot risk my life, or my men, or even you in such a voyage, in so small a ship, at this time of year. Besides, we could not get to Yokohama in time. It is one thousand six hundred and fifty miles away."

"Only one thousand six hundred," said Mr. Fogg.

"Oh, it is all the same." Fix breathed again. "But," continued the pilot, "we might manage it in another way."

Fix scarcely dared to breathe.

"How do you mean?" asked Fogg.

"By going to Nagasaki, which is only eleven hundred miles, or to Shanghai, which is eight hundred. In the latter case we shall be able to keep close in-shore, and have advantage of the current."

"But," replied Fogg, "I must take the American mail steamer at Yokohama, and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."

"Well, why not?" replied the pilot. "The San Francisco does not start from Yokohama; it starts from Shanghai, and only calls at Yokohama and Nagasaki."

"Are you quite sure of that?"

"Certain."

"And when does she leave Shanghai?"

On the 11th, at seven o'clock in the evening. So we have four days, which are ninety-six hours; and at the rate of eight knots an hour, if the wind hold, we shall be able to reach Shanghai in time."

"And when will you be able to start?"

"In an hour. I only want to buy some provisions and bend the sails."

"Well, it is a bargain. Are you the owner?"

"Yes; my name is John Bunsby, owner of the Tankadere."

"Would you like something on account?"

"If convenient to your honour."

"Here are two hundred pounds. Sir," continued Fogg, turning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage of this opportunity – "

"Thank you, sir," replied Fix. "I was about to beg the favour of you."

"Well, then, we shall be ready in half an hour."

"But what shall we do about the servant?" said Mrs. Aouda, who was much distressed at Passe-partout's absence.

"I will do all I can for him," replied Fogg; and while they directed their steps towards the police-office. Fix went on board the pilot-boat. Phileas left the description of his servant with the police, and a sum of money to be spent in seeking him. The same formality was gone through at the French Consulate; and then procuring their luggage, which had been sent back to the hotel, they went down to the wharf.

Three o'clock struck; the pilot-boat No. 43 was ready to start. She was a pretty little schooner, about twenty tons, built for speed, like a racing-yacht. She was as bright and clean as possible, and Bunsby evidently took a pride in his little craft. Her masts raked rather. She carried foresail and the usual sails for a ship of her tonnage. She could evidently make good way, as indeed she had proved by winning several prizes.

The crew consisted of the owner and four other men, all well acquainted with the neighbouring seas, which they scoured in search of ships wanting pilots. John Bunsby was a man of about five-and-forty, vigorous and full of decision and energy, calculated to reassure the most nervous passengers.

Phileas Fogg and Mrs. Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already installed. The accommodation was not extensive, but everything was clean and neat.

"I am sorry I have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix. The latter bowed without replying, for he felt somewhat humiliated in accepting Mr. Fogg's kindness under the circumstances.

"At any rate," he thought, "if he is a rascal he is a very polite one."

At ten minutes past three the sails were hoisted, the English flag was run up to the peak; the passengers took a last look at the quays in the hope of descrying Passe-partout, but they were disappointed. Fix was somewhat afraid that some chance might bring the lad whom he had treated so badly in that direction, and then an explanation would surely have ensued of a nature by no means satisfactory to the detective. But the Frenchman did not turn up, and no doubt he was still under the influence of the opium.

So John Bunsby stood out to sea, and the Tankadere, with the wind on the quarter, went bounding briskly over the waves.